


No Paradise But Rest

by Mizmak



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Beach House, First Kiss, Fluff, M/M, Romance, Short & Sweet, Wings, crowley unfurls his wings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-06
Updated: 2020-01-06
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:34:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22147252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mizmak/pseuds/Mizmak
Summary: Crowley can't seem to stop rehashing the almost-Armageddon, so Aziraphale takes him off to a secluded beach cottage for a little rest.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 9
Kudos: 95





	No Paradise But Rest

Aziraphale found it rather intoxicating, the way Crowley always managed to drape himself over furniture in such a loose, exotic fashion. Even on a beach lounger – there he lay, one leg straight, the other bent and half off the cushion, one arm dangling over the arm rest, the other lolling behind his head – while the lower half of his body turned one way and the upper half curved in the opposite direction.

Any ordinary person would have fallen off it by now.

Then again, Crowley could hardly be called ordinary.

They had come to a secluded, private beach cottage for a holiday, a respite after the end-of-the-world that didn’t happen. Somehow, even at the end of summer, the booking was open. A minor miracle, really.

And here they were, another miracle, alive and free, on nobody’s side except their own. Intoxicating indeed.

Aziraphale lay on his own lounger, neatly and properly settled in his usual neat and proper manner. With, however, a major concession to the fact that it was quite warm this afternoon. No suit today – he had donned a pair of white linen slacks, along with a matching long-sleeved shirt that he’d left unbuttoned. He’d rolled up the sleeves midway, and left his sturdy shoes behind in the cottage in favor of sandals.

At first he felt half-naked, but no one was looking. It truly was private here. When the light breeze ruffled his chest hairs, Aziraphale had to admit the sensation felt deeply pleasing.

Then there was Crowley. He wore a pair of very loose black pants of a thin material…and nothing else other than sandals, which he had promptly kicked off once he had safely reached the lounger.

Of course, he wore sunglasses, though no one could see his serpentine eyes. There wasn’t a cloud anywhere, and the sun beat down. Aziraphale had propped a large beach umbrella next to him for shade while Crowley had not bothered with one, because he wanted, he said, to bask in all the warmth he could get.

They had come here at Aziraphale’s suggestion because Crowley had insisted on ruminating over the events of the almost-Armageddon. He couldn’t seem to let it go. Every day he had a new question, or went over the things they’d done – or worse, the things they’d said – to a maddening degree. So Aziraphale had dragged him away, and forced him to relax. Which he seemed to be doing – at least, that was his fondest wish.

They stretched out there quietly for a long time. Aziraphale watched the gentle tide lapping against the sandy shore. He watched the seabirds soaring overhead, and a few shorebirds pecking along the sand. The susurration of the waves lulled him into drowsiness, though he did not fall asleep. He didn’t think about much of anything…he simply relished being away from _everything_.

After a while he looked over at his dearest friend. He could see that Crowley’s eyes were closed behind the sunglasses. But when the breeze picked up briefly to ruffle Crowley’s hair, he ran his hand through it – so he was still awake….

“What are you thinking about?” Aziraphale asked. He hoped it was something unrelated to the end of the world. He wanted so much to be done with that, and really, they _ought_ to be done.

But his hopes were dashed when Crowley said, “The bandstand gazebo.” _Damn_. “Are you still dwelling on that? Can’t you forget for just a little while?” They’d been over it already. It was one of the first things Crowley had insisted on revisiting, days ago while they were still in London. And Aziraphale had already apologized for saying they had nothing in common, that he didn’t like Crowley – lies told under duress. What _now?_

“No, I can’t forget.” Crowley turned his head towards Aziraphale. “And it’s not about what we talked of before.”

Aziraphale sighed. There simply was no letting go – he would have to help Crowley work through whatever it was he needed to get through before he could have peace of mind. “Very well. Tell me what’s bothering you still.”

“You knew where the Antichrist was then, and you didn’t tell me.”

Aziraphale rubbed a hand over his eyes. “No, I didn’t.” 

_Even if I did know…I wouldn’t tell_ you. _We’re on opposite sides._

“But why not? I thought we’d been working together. We went to Tadfield together…we agreed to have our networks of agents look for him, we agree to share what we found. Why did you lie to me – what _changed?_ ”

Even though he’d been trying hard not to dwell on the whole subject, Aziraphale couldn’t help it, now that Crowley had brought this up. “I was afraid to tell you.”

“Fine, but _why?_ ”

“Nothing changed, really.” He didn’t want to go over those feelings again – too hard. But he had to make things clear – he had to make things _right_ between them. “You wanted me to kill the boy. And I didn’t think that I could do it – I wanted someone else to take care of it. I wanted Heaven to deal with it. Don’t you understand?” He reached across the gap between their loungers to touch his arm. “If I’d told you where he was, you would have made me go there, and made me kill him.”

“Well, _I_ couldn’t do it – that would have been a death sentence. But I thought you’d just get a strongly worded reprimand.”

“Which turned out not to be the case.” 

Crowley sighed. “Sorry.”

Aziraphale found he was stroking Crowley’s bare arm. Caressing it ever so gently. “Anyway, I was going to do it, in the end. Heaven was no help at all – realized that a bit too late, almost ruined everything.”

“But you didn’t.” Crowley placed his hand on top of Aziraphale’s. “You came to find me…I’m sorry for asking about it. You did tell me _then_ where the boy was—“

“Yes, as I said, almost too late.” He’d come _so_ close to messing it all up. “You’re right – I should have told you earlier.” Aziraphale stopped his caress to take Crowley’s hand in his. “I should have told you at the gazebo.” He brought Crowley’s hand to his lips for a light kiss before releasing his hold. 

“That was distracting.” Crowley lifted his sunglasses to give him a questioning look.

A shivery tremor ran through Aziraphale. “Couldn’t help it.” He paused, then decided to say what he’d wanted to say for centuries. “I love you.”

“Ah. I see.” Crowley dropped the glasses back into place, then smiled softly. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe it’s time for me to let it all go.”

“I wish you would.” All that mattered to him was the fact they were here, together. “I wish you could be content.”

Crowley shifted, stretched, and sat up. “Let’s take a walk.” He retrieved his sandals and slipped them on.

“Fine.” Aziraphale pushed himself up off the lounger. “Just up the beach?”

“Yeah, that’ll do.”

They didn’t have a lot of beach to themselves – the property wasn’t that big. But there was enough for a short stroll, perhaps a quarter-mile, before the beach ended where a cliff jutted out.

They started off along a stretch of hard-packed sand, walking closely side by side. Just as he worried that his declaration of love was not going to be mentioned ever again, Crowley slid an arm around his waist.

Well, that would do for a start. Aziraphale returned the favor. They strolled slowly and comfortably together. He relished the touch of Crowley’s bare skin, and of Crowley’s hand, which he had slipped beneath Aziraphale’s shirt.

They gradually wandered near the lapping waves. Aziraphale walked on the outward side by the water. He wanted to feel the tide wash over his feet, so he gently guided them ever closer. A slightly stronger wave flowed over both their feet then, temperate water, a quick washing away of the sand between their toes.

They walked on, sometimes on the dry sand, sometimes tempting the waves, weaving slowly in and out. The sun was heading towards the horizon though they still had plenty of late summer light left. Sea grasses on the bluff behind the beach rustled in the breeze.

“I like it here,” Aziraphale said. Maybe they could make this place a regular getaway.

“It’s quiet, I’ll give you that.”

“That’s not a bad thing, right now.” 

“No, it isn’t. Right now, all I want is to rest.”

_Rest._ A line of poetry flitted through Aziraphale’s mind just then. One of the romantic poets, as he recalled.

“ _I would not, if I could, be blessed_ ,” he whispered. “ _I want no paradise but rest._ ”

“How apt.”

They reached the end of the beach and turned round to head back. “I thought we might come here often,” Aziraphale said. “And stay for some time. If you like.”

Crowley came to a sudden halt and pulled Aziraphale into an embrace. “What’s not to like?” He held Aziraphale tightly, one hand stroking the back of his head. “What’s not to _love?_ ”

Aziraphale gasped as they touched, at Crowley’s bare chest against his own. He wrapped his arms round Crowley’s back, lightly massaging the taut muscles until they relaxed beneath his touch. He nestled his head against Crowley’s, cheek to cheek. He breathed in Crowley’s scent, of deep earth tinged with a hint of ancient mist from the highest clouds. And then, as he stroked the small knot between Crowley’s shoulder blades, he felt a tremor beneath his fingers, a tremor that spread down his arms.

Crowley’s whole back shivered, his body tensed. He pulled away just for a moment, then clasped him close again as his wings unfurled. 

Feathers of night wrapped around them both like a cloak.

Aziraphale buried his face against Crowley’s shoulder. He gently touched Crowley’s wings, lightly brushing the coverts along the carpal edges.

Crowley sighed. “Keep doing that.” He took hold of Aziraphale’s chin to tilt his head back a little, and drifted long fingers down his face.

In the shadow of his winged embrace, Aziraphale could barely see. “Let me look at you – take off those sunglasses.”

He heard fingers snap, the glasses vanished, and there they were – golden eyes shining through the dark. Aziraphale felt encircled by love as Crowley’s wings pressed against his back, holding him, and as the feather tips curled round to touch his chest, soft and warm.

He continued caressing the wings as he held Crowley’s gaze. The feathers felt so alive, quivering gently under his fingers. “So beautiful,” he whispered.

Crowley still held his chin. “Thank you,” he said, and then he drew Aziraphale into a kiss.

_Soft_ , Aziraphale thought as his lips met Crowley’s, lightly exploring. _Warmth_ , he thought, pressing harder, lips opening, tongue darting inside for a quick taste before pulling back. He wanted to touch Crowley everywhere – he trailed kisses down Crowley’s cheeks, his throat, his chest. He wanted to love as he was loved, as Crowley kissed him in return, tender lips moving over every inch of bare skin.

They stood there for a long time as the waves lapped over their feet. Then the breeze strengthened, ruffling Crowley’s feathers. He spread his wings out to their widest extent, breaking their private enclosure. Sunlight streamed around them once more, though not harshly, as dusk drew nigh.

Aziraphale let go his embrace and Crowley folded his wings. They slowly disappeared within him.

“Let’s go back to the cottage,” Crowley said.

Aziraphale wasn’t entirely sure he could move at first, still stunned by the feeling of being enveloped by Crowley’s wings, yet somehow he found a way to put one foot in front of the other.

They strolled quietly up the beach towards the path to the cottage. He took Crowley’s hand in his as they walked to the door, with the sun setting behind them.

Crowley paused on the threshold. “Good idea, coming here. I’m done with going over what happened – all of it. Doesn’t matter now.”

“I’m glad to hear it.”

Crowley pulled him close to kiss his forehead. “Let’s be what we’ve always been – _friends_.” He smiled. “That is, friends who just happen to love each other.”

“I can do that,” Aziraphale replied, squeezing his hand.

They walked through the door together, into a new world, and they stayed in that private land for a long, long time.


End file.
